


Happenstance

by progical



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (in the first chapter at least), Alternate Universe - No Zombies, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/progical/pseuds/progical
Summary: In a world without the outbreak Alicia is off at Berkeley, but reluctantly comes back to town during break to get to know her mother's new boyfriend. That leads to a chance encounter with a certain journalist who also didn't have her life turned upside down by the sudden appearance of zombies. A very different first encounter ensues.(Now with follow up chapters after the outbreak)
Relationships: Althea/Alicia Clark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

“So Alicia, how’s college? Everything you hoped it would be?”

Startling back into focus from where she was lazily looking out the window, the brunette forces a smile she hopes doesn’t look too much like a grimace and turns to Travis. Even though they haven’t known each other for long he’s a good man and is clearly trying to make the best of an awkward situation. 

“Oh you know, pretty much as expected. Lectures, papers, a few parties here and there without getting too off track... All is well at Berkeley.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’re handling it perfectly fine, but should you ever need something, I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks.” She nods at him in a tone that should make it clear she won’t take him up on that. To his credit he just nods and leaves her be, going instead over to his own son Chris, who is listening to music with his back to them.

Not a great start to the vacation, that’s for sure.

They’re all stuck at LAX, and have been for almost two hours now, most of which her mother has spent by incessantly arguing with the airport staff. What should have been a nice family getaway, or rather one engineered to make them a family, is rapidly morphing into an even worse trainwreck as their flight has turned out to be an overbooked mess.

Not surprisingly Alicia hadn’t been thrilled by the idea to begin with, but it had all been made even worse by Nick’s unplanned absence. Her brother has fallen off the wagon and is back in rehab for the time being, fourth time, the first since she had moved across the state, which makes her feel vaguely guilty and is contributing to her already bad day.

Maybe having to endure this torture is her cosmic punishment for wanting to have some space to herself. For leaving him and getting the hell out of LA.

Before she can explore that borderline intrusive idea any further, Madison finally stomps back from the counter with a bitter expression.

“They say it’s a  _ computer mishap _ ,” She air quotes, “whatever that means. Anyway, our plane is definitely already gone, but there’s another one in three hours and they will upgrade us to first class for our trouble. That’s something at least I guess.”

“Three hours?”

Travis looks at his wristwatch pensively. “Well, it would take us about half of that to get home and back, maybe more in traffic, we might as well stay here…”

“That’s what I was thinking as well. I just hope they didn’t lose our baggage...”

Just perfect. She stops herself from groaning, but not fast enough.

“Come on Alicia, I’m trying here.”

“Yeah, great. Whatever.”

She knows from experience the entire conversation is taking a very predictable turn towards drama, but once the ball is rolling there isn’t really any way to stop it. As expected the older woman puts on her school counselor voice that she thinks makes her sound wise and reasonable: “Listen, I understand it’s not ideal, but we decided we would take this vacation together and I don’t think this small obstacle should stop us from that. I’m sure we can find a way to make up for the inconvenience when we..”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll wait!” She stops the lecture and doesn’t even bring up the fact that she had no choice in the matter at all and has driven through the night to be back here for this mess, “It'll be great, I trust you. I’ll just go see if there’s some magazine I can buy around here to kill the time. See you later.”

Unable to deny her at least that, Madison nods and calls after her, “Keep your phone on!”

She gives her the thumbs up and mutters to herself as she’s walking off, “I’m not five.”

With no interest in gossip mags whatsoever, Alicia just turns a few corners to put distance between her and the rest of the group, before finding a quiet place to plop down. Her hand moves almost on its own to retrieve her phone as soon as she’s settled down and opens the messaging app. Three hours with her own thoughts, just what the doctor ordered.

Her tense relationship with her mother certainly isn’t new, but this time there’s something else that’s gnawing at her and there’s no way she can put it into words. Berkeley’s really great, she didn’t lie about that. New experiences, new people and a new sense of purpose she was craving all last year, but… (She scrolls through old chat logs, not even bothering to read them as she knows them by heart.) Why does she have to be such a coming of age cliche?

It’s fucking humiliating, that’s what it is.

Mercifully, she’s pulled away from her wallowing by the arrival of a rowdy group near the secluded cluster of chairs she’s chosen for herself. Four loud young adults loaded up with plastic cases, the kind you could imagine military equipment travels in if it wasn’t for the colorful stickers plastered all over them. In their general carelessness, one falls over with a loud bang. 

“Be careful!” The one looking most like the leader yells out rushing to inspect their stuff. “I swear to god, if you break it I will take it out of your paycheck!”

“Wait, you guys are getting paid?” Another voice jokes referencing the meme and while his friends burst out laughing, even Alicia has to hide a small grin, thankful for the distraction. 

Her interest piqued, she spies them more closely trying to figure out who they could be. A girl with blue streaks in her hair hovers around them filming on a small handheld camera, vlogging most likely, so maybe some kind of youtube. It’s LA after all. 

There’s a patch on one of their backpacks, a purple hand print with the number one scrawled in its palm. Like the cases it’s vaguely militaristic, but with too much flair to be at home on a uniform, a logo maybe? When the group finally stops fussing around and sits she manages to read the bold letters on another design: First Hand Dispatch - Free Journalism Collective. 

She types the name into her phone browser and finds a website, but a cursory look tells her it’s too wordy even in her bored state, so she clicks on their featured social media links instead and reads the significantly shorter Instagram bio:

_ Raw, true, direct. News from the world’s hotspots, with no ulterior motives. 100% crowdfunded. _

Cool.

The first image on their feed depicts a street protest somewhere in the Spanish speaking world, bright orange spots of fire contrasting with the pitch black night of a city without electricity. In the foreground a man in native face paint is captured right as he’s about to hurl a bottle against a line of riot police, a link to the full article in the description.

Right after there’s a slice of sunny Mediterranean, two small fishing boats stacked full of refugees trying to make their way to Italy or Greece, the names and identifiers of the vessels blurred out so they’re not outed to the local authorities. The attached piece of writing is titled  “Hell and Hope on the High Seas”.

They really seem legit, even though the appearance could have fooled her. (When she looks up at them they are bickering like children over a box of twinkies.) 

Alicia’s eyes are caught by another picture, this time of a girl with short hair in a drab green helmet and vest looking out towards a red desert horizon in what looks like a war zone. She’s not among the present so she clicks on the personal tag on a whim and ends up scrolling through her personals.

@ALwithaHyphon

_ editor-at-large with @1stdispatch _

Editor-at-large. She’s not sure what that means, but it sounds important. There’s a fair share of impressive shots lined up on this profile too, but they seem less polished and more candid than the others, personal mementos rather than packaged content.

She pauses on a bikini pic. Al-with-a-hyphon is grinning, a drink in her hand and her arm slung loosely over the shoulders of one of her colleagues, matching neon green sunglasses perched on their noses. It’s not the caribbean, but an above ground pool thing on a dried out lawn. She looks… cute. Hot?

Alicia’s eyes slowly travel down to her cleavage.

Shit! She stops herself and looks off to the side. Is this what she does now? Lusting after girls like a horny teenager? Or did she do it before too, but just didn’t notice? 

What the hell is going on? 

“Oh god, I should really take that one down.”

Alicia jerks around alarmed by the voice out of nowhere, only to come face to face with the girl whose boobs she was just ogling. Not at all perturbed, Al’s leaning over her seat, with a duffel slung over her back and a giant cup of coffee in her hand.

“Hi.” She points at her phone, “That’s me.”

Her first instinct is to chuck the phone in one direction and bolt off in the other, but even in her embarrassed haze that seems like overkill, so instead she forces herself to stay still and nods slowly. “Yes.”

“I look super hungover, I should take it down I think.”

“I…”

Shaking her head the journalist puts her luggage down and grins, “I don’t want to get into your business, but that’s normally where you say I look great. You are not really good at this creeping-slash-flirting thing, are you?”

Already horrified to have been found out like that, a new wave of shame washes over the young brunette and she stammers trying to explain herself. “I-I wasn’t creeping, I swear. I just saw that sticker, so I went to see what that was about, and...”

“...and you ended up on my personal account. It happens.”

Yes. That’s exactly what happened! Taken aback by Al’s chill, she frowns: “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? That’s what social media is for. I was about to turn it to private though, so you better follow me if you don’t want to be shut out. Real professionals sometimes have a second account just to stalk people in incognito, you can consider that a free pro tip.”

“Are you making fun of me?” She asks, silently praying the other journalists aren’t listening in on their conversation, but she doesn’t dare turn around and check either. This scenario is very close to a number of nightmares she’s had since recently starting to question things, a close relative of the “go to school naked” category.

“No,” The woman with a serene grin, “ We’re going to the Middle East, they don’t appreciate thirst traps like you do. I usually turn it back to normal when we get back stateside. ”

"Oh.”

“So, you gonna follow me or what? Don’t leave me hanging like that.”

“You -are- making fun of me.”

“Oh lighten up. I’m Al.” She holds out her hand. “Althea. Al is fine.”

“Alicia.” She responds out of habit before she can think of making up something else.

Besides, for all her forwardness Al seems alright. She’s joking around, but there’s no malice in her voice or eyes and seems to be a genuinely interesting character to chat with. And she happens to be very pretty up close, wearing a henley and beanie combo as gracefully as the swimwear, even if she isn’t completely ready to admit that part yet.

“And where are you going, Alicia?” 

“Hawaii.”

The journalist laughs, taking a seat beside her, but leaving an empty one in between. “Don’t be too excited about the white beaches...”

“It’s a stupid family thing I was forced to attend to get to know my mother’s new boyfriend and his kid. I was hiding her to take a break from them. ”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is.”

“And what do you do when you aren’t creeping on girls you don’t know?”

Just when she thought she had successfully navigated away from that conversation, Alicia can feel her blush come back in full bloom. “I wasn’t creeping! And you ask a lot of questions!”

“Professional hazard.” Al shrugs.

“I’m a student at Berkeley.”

“Fancy.”

She hums. “Are you really going to the Middle East?”

“Yes, first we’ll fly to Ankara and then northern Iraq. Our final stop is in Syria, there are some independent territories there we’re going to check out, where women work and fight side by side with men, but first we have to find somebody that will get us in.”

“Adventurous.”

“It is, but we aren’t boarding for a while. How about you let me buy you a coffee?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, unsure. The cup already in Al’s hand tells her she probably doesn’t need the caffeine and points to a more personal gesture. If it was a boy asking her she would know how to handle it, if to accept or blow him off gently, but this...

Her hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed. “Did I read something wrong here?”

“No, I guess not… Shit.” Is she this transparent?

“Don’t overthink it Alicia. It’s just coffee. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Al smiles again, this time mirrored by her, and then offers her a hand to help her up. 

“Check my bag, dingus.” She calls over to her friends.

“Aye aye captain. Bring me a donut.”

After the initial difficulty in breaking the ice it’s actually very nice to sit with Al for a while and chat, the journalist being able to strike the right note between probing, but not too intrusive, for a stranger she just met. Alicia would even go as far as to say she’s having fun.”

“Wait! Say that again?!”

“Szewczyk-Przygocki.”

She burst out laughing. “Not a chance. Please tell me you use a pen name.”

“I’m a videographer actually, mainly so I don’t have to sign things.”

“Good call there, buddy.”

“So, moving on from your extreme rudeness about my proud Polnish heritage, I’m pretty sure there’s still something bothering you. Is it just the family vacation from hell?”

Her tone is more somber now, but the ghost of the previous smile still lingers on her face and somehow that lulls Alicia in a sense of safety. With Nick in isolation for the next few weeks there isn’t really anybody else she can talk things over with, she considers.

“There’s another thing,” She clears her throat half way trough, “But it’s stupid.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Like I said, it’s stupid. Not important.”

“Well, I happen to be a journalist specialized in stupid, non-important stuff, so you are in the right place.” She encourages her, “You could say I’m an expert on it.”

Fine. Might as well.

“Would you believe this is my first coffee date with a girl?”

“Absolutely yes.” Al answers a little bit too fast, but something in Al’s delivery makes it funny rather than judgemental, which at least helps her nerves and makes them both laugh. 

“Who’s being rude now?”

“I’m just being honest!”

Shaking her head Alicia takes a deep breath. “That bad?”

“No.Not at all, but I can see you being tense a mile away. You really shouldn't sweat it, we’ve all been through it at some point or other. I’m guessing it’s a recent development?”

“Yes. It’s… to give you the extreme cliff notes…” Suddenly a thought occurs to her. ”We’re off the record, right?”

“I was just joking around Alicia, I’m a conflict reporter. Are you saying the story you are about to tell me has that level of death and destruction?”

“No, I guess not…”

“We’re completely off the record. My lips are sealed forever.”

“Good.” She nods feeling silly about the question, but it’s too late to turn back now. “So as I was saying, cliff notes: I get to college, get invited to a party and immediately fall into bed with somebody…”

“A girl.”

“Yes, a girl.” Even saying it is strange. “And… I don’t know, if I said it was a conscious decision I would be lying, if I said it happened by accident I would be lying too… I don’t know if I’m explaining this right…”

Sensing the younger girl’s rising stress levels Al reaches out and takes her hand. “I understand what you are saying. Are you still in contact with her?”

She shakes her head. “Didn’t get her name or number. Was gone when I woke up.”

“And do you want to? Get in contact?”

“Not really. I mean, it feels a bit unfair that my entire world was turned upside down and for her it was just another tuesday, but that’s my thing to deal with.”

“And you never thought about it before?”

“My family has baggage. My dad died, my brother is… an addict. My mom had to figure out a lot of things out on her own, and I may have gone on autopilot for a few years I now realize…. Not really paid attention to the small stuff, you know?”

“Like you happiness.”

“Yep.” Alicia pops the syllable trying to hide how serious the talk’s gotten.

Her shoulders are hunched down a bit now, her eyes trained on the small table between them, it’s like she’s actively trying to make herself smaller and disappear from view, a feeling Al remembers all too well from her own past.

“Hey,” She tries to get her attention back squeezing her hand where they are still connected, “I’m sorry I can’t help you much, but in my opinion you’re more than justified to be a bit awkward with your flirting. That shit takes a lot of practice.”

That’s rewarded with a small snort, so she decides to press on.

“...and you clearly already have great taste in women, so that’s half the battle.” A wink. “I really think you should just give yourself time and figure it out at your own pace. No final exam on this subject, I promise.” 

“Good, ‘cause I can’t study for shit lately.” The brunette breaths quietly.

“Oh that’s definitely a symptom.”

She’s very grateful to Al, who quietly keeps the conversation going by herself for a while and stirs it to lighter topics until she’s finally able to contribute more than half sentences again. The journalist recounts a few of her group’s funniest past adventures, recommends a few sights for her in Hawaii and even busts out dog pictures to nurse her mood back to health. When her phone finally rings and she realizes it’s almost time to get back to her mother she’s incredibly glad to have met the kind stranger.

“Don’t even mention it ok?” Al tells her with an exaggerated serious frown as they walks towards the general direction of her gate, “But one day you may stumble across another baby gay somewhere, and you’ll have to pass it on.”

Shaking her head at the antics she nods, “Of course wise one, I will.”

“Good.” They share a smile. “Oh, and one more thing Alicia.”

She turns towards Al, who’s slowed down a little and then...

She’s kissed.

Soft lips meet hers, not deeply, but their contact still burns on her skin. Al’s hand rests for just a moment against the back of her neck, barely there and then gone.

She didn’t even notice closing her eyes, but when she opens them again the other woman is standing incredibly close and gently tells her, “There, baby gay no more. Now you are a veteran womanizer.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“But it helps, doesn't it?”

She nods dumbly, hard pressed to hide a smile.

“Good. Hug before I leave?”

Right, because this isn’t a fairy tale and ride off together in the sunset. The emotional rollercoaster from the last few moments to this realization leaves Alicia staggering for a beat and it’s only mechanically that she wraps her arms around the other woman.

“When are you…”

“Coming back?” She can feel her shrug in the embrace, “I’m not sure yet, but you really should follow me so I can tell you. If you want to know, that is.”

“I..yes.”

"I'm pretty sure you know where to find me. I'm looking forward to those thirst likes then."

"You're terrible!" She shoves her playfully, putting on a brave face to fight off the tears.

"See you soon, Alicia."

"Bye, Al."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few ideas I was playing around with to get things flowing again after a hiatus. It originally also had a brief cameo of a happy Charlie on vacation with her parents and Strand walking by in businessman mode, but that didn't feel organic in the end.  
> Do with it what you will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wanted them to meet again and they do, but if you thought this would be a easy happy end you came to the wrong place :P

The world may have changed, but Althea often thinks her own life really hasn't that much. She never put down roots anywhere before the dead started walking, and while there may not be a regular salary involved anymore, she’s still talking to people on the road and chasing down stories. 

Case in point: John and Morgan.

The few scraps she's already got out of them hold some promise, and even more than that, there is this peculiar kind of mannerisms they share, more like characters from a cheesy movie rather than ordinary survivors. Just as she's about to launch into her newest volley of questions though, something unexpected catches her eye.

“There’s somebody up ahead.” A lone female figure stumbling along the pockmarked asphalt. 

“Oh, come on.” Unhappy, the cowboy slides up into the passenger seat of the truck to take a look. He's anxious to search for his own belle Al knows, and yet she watches him pull his six shooter and check the chambers like it's inconceivable they would leave somebody in need behind. Remarkable.

“ ‘ Thought you said there aren’t a lot of people around these parts.” Her other travel companion comments from the back, turning his stick in his hands.

“There aren’t.” She mumbles almost to herself, stopping the vehicle and reaching back for her rifle. She likes new people, but you have to be careful these days.

“You man the big guns. All you have to do is pull this.” 

Morgan looks up to the lever and shakes his head. “Can’t. - I don’t kill.”

Of course the wandering monk is a pacifist, she smirks shaking her head. “Come on dude, you have to answer some of my questions.”

“I don’t kill either." John offers, "At least I try not to.”

“Great moment for both of you to share this fact.”

The woman in the street isn't a walker, that much is clear, even though with her dirty clothes and rat's nest of brown hair they could have easily mistaken her for one. The most obvious sign is that instead of simply approaching to try and bite them, she seems to be walking with some purpose, mumbling desperately in a hoarse voice.

“You injured?” Al asks her loud enough to be heard. “What happened?”

The words get somewhat clearer as she comes closer. “T-T-There’s bad people.. h-here.”

“Where?”

She stumbles over her own feet, almost falling to the ground again, and Al instinctively rushes forward to keep her upright. Big mistake. "Right here." She whispers, as a jagged blade surges up the journalist’s throat.

Behind them the two men jump to action, but before they can close the distance more figures emerge from the surrounding brush, these ones armed with automatic weapons. 

“Drop it! Drop it!" Somebody yells aggressively and the rifle is pulled out of Al's hands. 

That's when she catches a glimpse through the curtain of mussed hair in front of her, a glimpse of intense green eyes that feel like a ghost from the distant past.

"Alicia?" She breaths unsure.

“Quick! Tie them up! Move!”

She's pulled away, down on her knees and roughly patted down, but her eyes stay fixed on the girl in front of her. The gentle Berkeley student she shared an afternoon with a lifetime ago. “What the hell happened to you?”

\- - -

“We’re not who you think you are.” The black guy with the stick tries to reason with them while they search their stuff, but as soon as Nick picks up a heavy duffel, the short haired woman jumps to her feet and has to be swatted back down by Strand. “Leave that one be! Don't you dare touch it!”

By her reaction he's pretty sure to have stumbled upon something of interest, when he opens it up though it's just an old camera and a handful of tape cassettes. Disinterested he lets it all fall back to the ground again, making its owner growl at him. What’s her deal?

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” The third guy tries to calm them all down in a southern drawl, “Everything's fine.”

The confusion on their faces seems legit, Nick considers, maybe they really aren't who they are looking for. The driver looks to be the leader, the other two maybe part of her group. Doesn’t feel like they've been together for long, but with hardware like that truck on the table it's easy to see why they decided to band together. Too bad, now it’s theirs.

He’s picking up the next piece of luggage, when he suddenly stops in his tracks hearing the next thing that comes out of the woman’s mouth: “Alicia, what’s going on?”

“You know her, Al?” One of her friends asks in a whisper.

“I used to. What's going on? Talk to us!”

He shoots his sister a look and nods towards the back of the massive vehicle, where they can talk in private. Alicia seems annoyed, but nonetheless follows him.

“What the hell, Leesh? You know these people?” He asks without preamble. There’s no time for surprises right now.

“No.” She pauses and looks away. “Kind of.”

“Wait a minute. Al? Like airport Al? Back in Los Angeles?”

“Yes. Maybe. What does it matter? We have more important things to focus on.”

His mouth is already halfway open to explain exactly why it matters, but they are interrupted by Luciana, stomping over to the prisoners. “You’re with them!” She accuses, unfurling a dirty white cloth with a number painted on it. 51.

“With who?”

“The vultures.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Al assures them, “Maybe if you assholes put your guns down we could help each other. Who put up that flag? What did they do to you?”

“How about you answer our questions?” Alicia advises ice cold, “That flag isn’t yours?”

The journalist shakes her head.

“Alright. Then you’ll show us where you found it.”

\- - -

A few moments later they are all sitting in the SWAT truck driving it back the way it came, the three original occupants securely bound to their seats and the new crew looking out for something, but Al's never been good at keeping her mouth shut.

“I see you going through something over there.” She calls after the shaggy man she suspects is Alicia's brother. “I mean, you gotta be, right? Looking for some people? What did they do to you?”

“Al.” Morgan, ever the voice of reason, begs, “They’re not talking, so maybe we can leave it be.”

Fat chance. “Look, I’m really just trying to help. We’re all breathing here, means we are on the same team.”

All she gets in return is an eye roll. Fine, it’s a cheesy line, but it works on some people and she's only got so much time before...

“Where’s this turnoff?” The latina in the driver's seat asks.

Her friend with the map shakes his head. “We would have reached it by now.”

(...before they notice she hasn't given them what they wanted.)

“Did she tell us the right way?”

“Yeah I did. Just not all of it.” She admits with a smirk.

Losing his patience, brother eye-roll grabs a hammer from his belt and steps to loom over her. “I don’t think you understand the situation here.”

“It's not worth it.” John tries to convince her, but that's not how she sees it. She won't let them have her truck. She won't let them have her life's work. Not like this.

“You know how many times I’ve been zip tied?”

One satisfying snap and the knife hidden in her sleeve comes up towards the guy, who tries to fend her off, but he isn't used to the constricting interior of her home on wheels and tangles himself up. Al doesn't make the same mistake and tackles him low as everybody starts yelling over each other at once.

“Watch the road!” - “Shit!”

The truck makes a sudden sharp turn and everybody goes flying.

\- - -

It's almost comical how they've switched roles in just under an hour, half of them again tied and kneeling on the ground as the others survey the damage. Sadly there isn't much they can do to get the truck out of the muddy ditch it’s planted in without some help.

“Well, she needs a tow, we have to get her one.”

Strand arches an eyebrow from where he's sitting, honestly surprised they haven’t been shot yet. “We?”

“Yes, we.” Al repeats looking down at them all, “We got she in this ditch, we got to get her out.”

“And then?”

“And then we can talk about whatever we need to talk about. Your story. Where I found the flag... Or not.”

A long moment of tension hangs between them, before Lucy clears her throat. “I saw some trucks at a service yard a while back. We can use one to tow it out.”

And that’s the plan, except there is no real trust between them yet, so it's not like they'll just wander off arm in arm, happy to work together. Leaving somebody from each group back to keep an eye on the vehicle and equipment seems only natural and before anybody can suggest it any other way the journalist grabs Alicia by the wrist. “She and I will stay, so I can be sure you won't wander off too far.”

To both the women's surprise Nick doesn't protest, only takes a long look at them and nods, which seems to appease his companions as well. They pull out their packs and slowly one by one start drudging up the slope again towards the road, with Luciana as the last.

“Stay safe.” She tells Alicia with a hand on her arm, before turning and joining the others.

“She's hot.” Al comments casually after a moment. “Girlfriend?” 

“Don't be gross, she's with my brother.”

The wind picks up a bit as they watch them go and the journalist takes a few gulps of water from her canteen before offering it to the brunette, who waves her off.

“You _ do _ remember me, right?”

That gets her a scoff and not much else.

“You know, I really felt bad that we didn't connect after that time at LAX.”

“Yeah well, shit happens.”

Still, it feels like she has to explain herself, so she carries on. “They took my phone, all our phones actually, at the Iraqi border… We got by with our fixer’s prehistoric cell, then by the time we got back stateside the networks had started to glitch out. I could have tried harder I guess, but everything was going down and...”

“Really Al, water under the bridge.” The other girl huffs, sitting down on the truck bumper. “Who cares.”

Ouch.

“Well, I mean... we're here now, aren't we? By some strange happenstance we're in the same place again years later. Still alive.” 

“So?”

Saying she’s out of practice is an understatement, but Al tries to summon at least some of that roguish charm that served her so well in the past when she smiles and suggests, “So... We can talk.”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

Alicia shakes her head and combs her hand through her hair, trying to get a bit of the dirt they used for her disguise out of it. A humorless laugh escapes her and even to her own ears it’s painfully bleak. “The girl you met doesn't exist anymore.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don't know if you noticed Al, but shit happened. All over!” A flash of anger crosses her face and she clenches a fist. “I'm in no mood for a coffee date, or a chat, or whatever. I'm here to know where you found that flag and nothing more.”

“So you can find these people you are looking for. The vultures?”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

This is going nowhere, but the difference is that Al is very used to talking around in circles until she gets what she wants, she could go on all day long, while Alicia very clearly has no patience for such games. “Just leave me alone, please”

“What happened to you?” 

The look of pity in the other woman’s eyes is worse than any insult she could have hurled at her, it burns, finally setting the former student off for good.

“What happened? To me? My Mom. Chris. Travis. Everybody that was there with me at the airport is dead now! As are pretty much all the people I've met since. You'd probably like to catch up and hear that I kissed another girl eventually, but you know what? She's dead too, so I really don’t feel like it! Does that explain it perhaps? Or do you have to give you all the sordid details for you to be satisfied?”

“I'm sorry.” Al pauses for several moments, “These vultures are responsible?”

“For some of it. Yes.”

“And you want to kill them.”

“What's it to you?”

“Nothing. I just... like to collect people's stories. The two guys I was with? I've met them on the road too, John is looking for this woman he got separated from and Morgan is searching for the meaning of life or some shit. I interview survivors...”

“Good for you. But keep me out of it.”

They stay mostly quiet after that, Al pretending to busy herself around the truck and Alicia looking out toward the empty horizon ignoring her. The shadows grow longer over time, but it’s still hours from sundown when eventually a small group of the dead appear shambling towards them. It’s maybe seven or eight, too far out to have caught their scent, but they soon will.

“Give me the gun barrel, I’ll take them out.”

The journalist binds the webbing back in place after checking on the equipment she stored inside it, then walks up to take a look herself. “It’s not really worth the risk. Just come inside, if we close the doors they’ll go on by without bothering us.”

“You can’t know that.”

How the hell did she find this stubborn girl attractive? All she can muster now is mild irritation. “Well, I’m not comfortable giving you a weapon for now.”

“Then you do it.” 

She takes a deep breath. “Turning my back at you doesn’t seem like a genius idea either.”

Alicia scoffs again and seems to be about to comply, when out of nowhere a new noise overshadows the lifeless moaning in the distance, a vintage motor rumbling down the road. Her shoulder tense up, looking back past Al. 

“My gun barrel.” She demands. “Now.”

“You don’t need it.”

The source seems to be a blue El Camino speeding towards them without slowing down, and that makes the young brunette only more frantic. 

“Not for them!” She urges, climbing in the truck and starting to open crates and cabinets in a desperate search. “Tell me where you put it. And my guns!”

“What the hell Alicia…”

With one last look around, not seeing any of her weapons, she turns ready to bolt empty handed, but Al grabs her by the shoulder. Unable to wiggle free she kicks back blindly, catching something but still being held back. Bucking like a wild animal she gives her an even more aggressive shove. The journalist stumbles, bangs against the dashboard and the horn starts to go off. 

Alicia doesn’t care, she’s already running out and is half way up the slope before it even registers that the loud sound isn’t stopping. Turning back from the curb she sees Al groggily trying to get up, the doors wide open to the gathering walker flock that’s now approaching her.

Shit.

The car. It’s that fucking car! It’s Ennis! She looks around, desperate to find a way to address both her concerns, but there isn’t one. She has to choose.

Only one thing really matters, she reminds herself, only wiping them out. Everybody dies sooner or later. If Nick, Lucy or Strand were here they would act, and so will she. Al can handle her own. Or not. She doesn’t care.

She doesn’t.

The El Camino zooms past her, too fast to even make out the driver. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Alicia picks up a stone from the ground and runs back down.

The first corpse doesn’t even hear her coming, its head bashed in in seconds, then another is pushed aside, a third stumbling to the ground in a tangle of clumsy limbs. Her boot takes care of them. She goes for another kill, but the rounded shape of her improvised weapon slips away leaving her to fight bare handed.

It’s not even a dozen, she could take them, but with no tool at all a simple slip could turn the fight deadly. Instead she gets herself some space to move and then pulls the doors of the truck shut. First one, then the other, rotting hands uselessly clawing at the reinforced glass.

Short, shallow breaths. What has she done?

She vaguely registers Al pulling herself up to her feet with blood on her forehead. It takes a few different buttons and switches to finally make the airhorn stop, then she wipes the red streak away with the back of her hand. “T-thanks, but what…”

WHAT THE HELL DID SHE JUST DO? “That was my only chance! You fucking ruined it!” She yells out at the other woman. “You ruined everything!”

“What are you talking about? You fucking decked me and tried to run off.”

“Why do you have to mess with everything? Why do you have to show up at all?” She screams on top of her lungs, tears welling up in her wild eyes. “Why now!?” 

“Alicia…” 

Al tries to approach the girl, reaching out with a hand to try and connect at least that way with her, but she’s harshly slapped away.

“I don’t want you here! I don’t want to be here!” Her breathing grows more labored, quickly approaching the signs of a panic attack, the journalist realizes.

“Slow down. I’m not sure what you are talking about, but we’re safe,” She tries her best to be suiting under the circumstance, “Nothing’s ruined, we’re all still here. Take a deep breath.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Please Alicia. You have to calm down.”

Just as she steels herself for the confrontation to get physical, Alicia’s eyes fall on some of the stuff that’s littering the truck’s floor after the previous scuffle, a yellow container of ready-made ramen in particular seems to catch her attention.

She grabs it and shoves it in front of Al’s face. “Where did you get these?”

“What?”

“Where did you get these? Tell me right now!”

“A semi… on route 40 in Oklahoma. I used to have a bunch of them. Why?”

“What did you do with them?”

“I traded them for an interview.”

A sudden realization washes over the brunette and she rushes towards the boxes full of cassettes she noticed earlier, pulling them out by the handful. 

“Hey!” Al tries to pull her off, but she continues to rummage through them until she finds one labeled _Amina_. Her hands start to shake.

“Y-you knew her?”

\- - -

After rather easily securing an appropriate tow vehicle and filling it up with enough gas for the drive, the group finds their way back to where they’ve left Alicia and Al, but even from a distance something immediately looks off. A small, but growing herd of walkers is crowding around the SWAT truck and there’s no sign of either woman around.

“Stop. Stop right here!” Nick tells them slapping on the side of the driver’s seat. 

As soon as the wheels are no longer turning he jumps out, followed closely by the others, and starts tearing into the dead. “Alicia! Alicia, do you hear me?” He calls urgently.

His hammer describes an arc, hits a corpse in the cheekbone. With a stomp he shatters a leg and brings another one down. After the fall of the Stadium, Madison’s death, he can’t lose anyone else. Least of all her. Not now. He forces himself to push the thought away and keep going. One after the other the dead fall, pile up on the muddy ground.

“Alicia!”

He grabs the handle and pulls the doors open, only to find his sister crumbled to the ground with that old camera in her hands and tears carving the dirt from her cheeks.

“Nick?”

“Are you alright, Leesh?”

“W-We have to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So apparently this is a five chapter fic now)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, less things happening and more... feels being felt.

“...every morning I got up dreading what I would find,” Madison’s voice, her mother’s voice, breaks through the silence of the dark room. “And then one day as I walked down the halfway I heard something. Chirping. Amina was flying around the living room. She lived because my kids didn’t give up on her. Gave her a chance when no one else would.” 

There’s orange light dancing over her face, probably from a campfire out of frame. She has dark rings under her eyes and looks exhausted, and yet she seems so… strong. Alicia can feel a thick knot in her throat that feels like it has been there for days.

“There isn’t a whole lot of that left anymore.”

“No there’s not.” Al agrees.

“That’s why I need to find a place where things will be different. Because that’s still in my kids, but the light is getting fainter every day we are out here, and I can’t… I can’t imagine that part of them dying. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it alive.”

The interview ends, but the tape doesn’t. Visual static plays over the small display of the camera she’s holding onto with white knuckles and she keeps her eyes fixed on it until they start burning. No tears fall though, all already spent at this point.

After who knows how much time the door creaks open and somebody carefully makes his way inside with a tray. It’s Strand this time. Must be his turn.

Some time ago they stopped at a random house along their way, if there has been any thought put into choosing it she can’t honestly remember, all she knows is that she found the first untouched bedroom and crawled inside with no intention of leaving again. From time to time she can hear the others moving downstairs, but it’s of no real concern to her. Not anymore.

“Good morning.” He tries cheerfully, but she doesn't see the point to answer or even look up. “You have to eat something, Alicia. Please.”

Right, yesterday’s plate is still untouched on the dresser where Nick left it. It’s not her fault all she can hold down are a few bites when the stomach protests, any more and she starts to feel nauseous, but explaining that would take too many words.

“Ok. Fine” She croaks from her blanket cocoon.

He doesn’t believe her, but doesn’t want to fight either. A few more moments with eyes on her, then he finally leaves, letting her get back to rewinding the tape and watching it from the start. Her mother has her hands bound behind her back and is sitting on the back steps of the SWAT truck. She looks definitely off camera.

“Do you always put guns to people’s heads to get what you want?” Al prompts from outside the frame.

“If that is what it takes.”

\- - -

  
  


The group is pretty much camped out between the kitchen and the living room area of the house, with Lucy and Nick talking in hushed tones at the dining table after having finished their own meal and Al sitting by herself in a corner studying a large road map of the county. Various bits of their usually packed up equipment have started to spread out around them as the sedentary days went on.

When they hear Strand’s heavy steps coming down the stairs again they all hold their breath, but the man just shakes his head. “Still nothing.”

Nick mirrors his head shake and takes a deep breath. It’s not like he doesn’t understand what his sister is going through, he does all too well and were the circumstances just slightly different he would probably be right beside her. It’s the role reversal that has him off his game.

Alicia’s the strong one, the dependable one. The one you don’t have to worry about.

After they fled the stadium like rats from a sinking ship it was her that found them a new purpose, sold them on the mission of hunting down the vultures one by one. It had kept them sane for a while, but turned them into exactly what their mother was afraid of.

Now she was spiraling. Shouldering all the blame.

“Maybe Al should try next.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to him, even the journalist herself looks up for a moment, but doesn’t say anything and returns to her task. She’s been generally pretty quiet, just agreeing to give them a lift for free after they towed her truck out of the ditch and then hanging around in the background without pressing them for more stories.

“Al? Why Al?” Lucy asks, a bit surprised..

He shrugs, it’s a shot in the dark, but... “She and Alicia have history.”

There is a long pause, before the other woman joins the conversation.

“She told you about that?”

“I’m her brother. Of course she told me about that.”

Lucy, still out of the loop, doesn’t let go. “What are you two talking about?”

Bristling at the prospect of explaining herself in front of an audience, Althea clears her throat, trying to find the most innocuous way to fill them in. “We met.” She settles on casually, “Before the fall.”

“They kissed.” Nick adds bluntly.

“That’s…” She stammers, quickly losing steam, “Ok fine, we kissed.”

Her embarrassment must greatly entertain Strand, who claps his hands together a few times chuckling in his deep baritone. “No shit? Then by all means, you should try your hand next, my dear, maybe the power of love will lift her spirits.”

Love.

Not exactly the word she would choose… Not after their recent reunion.

“I’m really not sure that’s a good idea, guys.”

Now invested, but trying to play it cool, Lucy leans forward a bit. “Did it end badly?”

“It didn’t end. Or start. We just met. Once.”

“Oh.” The latina accepts, but Strand is not so gracious. “I have so many questions.”

Luckily she’s spared the third degree by the start of a rhythmic hammering from outside. A somber note descends on the momentary excitement they felt for some good old world gossip as Nick reaches out to pull one of the cutesy curtains away from the windows revealing a familiar sight: John, unshaven and unkempt, using a woodman’s axe to drive rough branches into the ground and reinforce the fence surrounding the farmhouse they are holed up in.

Since that night it’s all he does. At first light he wakes, wanders into the thick behind the property to exhaust himself swinging that axe, then returns and uses his bounty to build up their deporary shelter’s defenses. Agitated sleep, repeat from the top.

How much suffering can a simple phrase bring? 

“We have some supplies hidden nearby.” They told Al and the others after making sure that Alicia was bodily fine, “We might as well pick them up.”

Some weapons, seeds, even a small cash of dry food that they managed to salvage, all things that could be useful if they had to settle down for a few days until the young brunette felt more like herself again. Everything had been fine until John recognized that brown satchel and rummaging inside it had found a white handled revolver matching his own.

“Laura…”

“She told us her name was Naomi.”

“What happened to her?”

Their looks had been enough.

- \- -

“Hey.”

Twice in one day?

Alicia’s about to bark something aggressive at the latest intruder, when she realizes it’s Al on the threshold and blanks for some reason. Al’s never come up to see her before. She’d seen the truck parked around back through the mostly closed blinds so she knew she was still around, but no other sign of life. Well, except...

“Do you need the camera?” She asks with a hint of apprehension.

“No, you’re fine.” The journalists assures her, rubbing the short hair in her nape like she does when she’s nervous. She did it back then too, the brunette realizes. At the airport.

“The battery is almost gone.” She says somewhat lamely.

“Don’t worry about that either, I can recharge it in the truck if we need to.”

They look at each other for a few moments, then Al bends down and starts to untie her boots, leaving them back as she comes in further into the dim room.

“What are you doing?”

“Your brother thinks I might be able to get you to come out.”

“I…”

“Don’t worry,” She waves trying to dissolve her apprehension “I’m not even going to try. If you need some time you should have it, but I’m really not in the mood to fight with them, so I’ll just pretend I tried. Give me ten minutes and I’m out of your hair.”

“Ok…” She answers unsure, still keeping an eye on the other woman who’s now standing over the bed she has built her cocoon in. 

“Make space.”

Too stunned by the forwardness to formulate an answer, she finds herself scooting a bit to the right so Al can climb in and sit with her back against the headboard, legs stretched out over all the sheets. 

So much for leaving her alone.

A few minutes tick by with neither talking, and Alicia finds she’s unable to watch the tape with somebody else in the room. She pushes the camera aside and starts toying with the plastic cassette case, passing her fingers over the scrawled title and feeling Al’s eyes on her.

Amina.

God, they were so innocent back then. 

Amina.

Before their father died. Before everything turned to shit.

When the journalist finally speaks it’s almost welcome, if only to stop that droning emptiness surrounding her. That dreadful feeling that it’s never to get any better, but just keep spiraling into worse and worse nightmares until she’ll lose her mind for good.

“She never told me her name, I would have told you.”

She hums to signal she heard, but then finds herself responding: “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell us about meeting you.”

Why keep that little detail secret? It doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t know for sure. I suspect she wasn’t particularly proud of how she was back there, how she handled it… She was trying her best to be a role model for you I think.”

Alicia nods. That kind of makes sense, but it only makes everything else worse. 

“Would it be to dumb to ask you how you are feeling?”

There’s a long silence, until it starts to feel heavy between them.

“I don’t really know how to answer to be honest.” She whispers in the end. 

“That’s fair.”

Again, a pause, and yet more words want to come out.

“I’ve watched it over and over, and the things she says… She hoped we wouldn’t turn away from the good, and that’s exactly what we did as soon as she was gone. And I almost didn’t notice until she held a mirror up to it either, it just felt natural. Killing felt… right.”

“Cut yourself some slack Alicia, you did the best you could under the circumstances.”

“Then my best isn’t very good I guess.”

Seeing her like this hurts.

Al would like to tell her that everybody feels like a failure sometimes. She would like to point out that there’s nobody left that hasn’t traversed dark moments, that hasn’t done horrible things to themselves and to others, that all survivors are guilty and flawed. She would like to say so many things, but nothing seems appropriate. Nothing seems helpful.

Still, she can’t let that be the last words.

“We’re still here, aren’t we? There’s still time to do better.”

“Where did you read that, a fortune cookie?” The other girl shoots back a bit too aggressively.

The journalist doesn’t balk at that though. To her own surprise a strange smirk starts to form on her face instead, morphing over a few seconds into a full blown chuckling grin. 

“What?”

“I was thinking, I’m really craving some Chinese food right now.” She confessed.

Alicia stares at her opening and closing her mouth a few times before taking an airy breath in that’s not quite a laugh, but it’s probably the best she can manage right now.

Chinese food, what a concept.

What is she even doing here, she ponders looking over at an empty wall for several moments. Is she waiting to die? No, death is outside, not here in her self indulgent exile.

Is she waiting for somebody to come and save her? That won’t happen either.

Life just goes on and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“I’m sorry I kicked you.”

Al gives her a warm smile. “And I would really like to hug you.”

“I’m… not really up for that.”

“I figured. I was just being honest.”

In the end they silently agree to something. It’s not a hug, but they gradually lean up against each other, barely touching at the shoulders and that’s enough for a while.

Do Alicia’s dark thoughts still? Not entirely, but at least they seem harder to make out.

For the moment.

“Goddammit. How can this world be so fucked?”

“I think it still has its moments.” Al shrugs with her eyes closed.

“Shut up.”

She doesn’t. “Do you think you are going to come out at some point?”

“Not yet.”

“Will you tell everybody it’s thanks to me when you do?”

On the verge of another small smile, the brunette shakes her head. “Stop talking please.”

“Do you want me to go?”

Pause.

“You can stay.”

  
  


\- - -

Al stays for a while, but when Alicia wakes from the nap she slipped into without even realizing she’s gone. The camera is still there though, with three green bars of new battery life blinking in the dark bedroom, Madison's cassette neatly laying beside it.

A sudden panicky thought comes over the brunette, real enough to make her climb out of her bed and quietly sneak towards the windows in the back. Truck’s still there too. 

She’s about to return to her cocoon when she notices there’s a fresh plate on the dresser.

Stir fry and rice.

“Close enough.” Is scrawled on a scrap of paper under the fork.


	4. Chapter 4

Recovery is a slow thing, but after the first good day comes around it eventually turns into two, three, five, then ten, and before you even notice you’ve fallen into a routine. 

They never formally decided to stay at the old farmhouse, but after John finished building what can rightfully be called a palisade, Nick suggested plowing some of the enclosed terrain and they ended up bringing in some seeds. During a recent supply run Morgan even managed to capture some half feral chickens that probably escaped from a neighboring homestead, making them even more self-sufficient and less likely to move.

Is it a community? Not really, not with just the seven of them, but it’s something. 

When Alicia comes down from her room to make herself some tea that morning, her brother is already sitting in his chair near the window and chewing on a grass stalk like the caricature of a real farmer. They exchange a silent nod and she turns her back to fill the kettle, but that’s not enough to hide her troubled thoughts from the one person that knows her the best.

“What’s going on?” He asks casually, turning only halfway in her direction.

“Nothing.” She shrugs, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Mh.”

This new Nick, calm and content with his lot, is incredibly annoying to her. Dirt under his fingernails, beautiful girlfriend at his side, one could almost argue the end of the world turned out ok for him. Almost.

There’s a long pause, but then he muses, “You don’t know she’s going to leave, ‘leesh.”

There it is. The thing she was obsessing over and trying to avoid all at once.

“I do.” She breaths barely audibly.

The quiet is interrupted by Luciana, who skips down the same staircase with far more gusto, but almost immediately stops in her tracks, picking up on the strange vibe in the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” She asks with her barely there accent and an amused twinkle in her eye. “Did you sleep with her again?”

Alicia drops the kettle on the fire with a huff, “Don’t say it like it happens all the time.”

“Well… It  _ did _ happen three times now.”

“Two!”

“So it’s still two, then. Good to know.”

Nick jumps in calmly, “My sister thinks Al is going to go on the road again for good.”

To her credit, Lucy switches to a more somber tone at that. “Well, she hasn’t till now...” 

The brunette however can’t stand all these empty platitudes.

“Every time she goes out for supplies she stays away longer.” She hisses angrily, “When she unloads them she leaves a few things back for herself and brings them to the truck when she thinks nobody is looking. She’s preparing to go, clear as day.”

“You could tell her how you feel and that you want her to stay.” Her brother tries.

“It’s complicated...”

The Latina nods, fishing a piece of breath from the wicker basket they keep it in. “Yes, you are very complicated.”

“Hey!”

Looking to Nick for help doesn’t do much, as he shrugs and nods. “She’s right.”

“Of course you take her side. Thanks a lot.”

The entrance creaks open, as Strand batts his shoes down on the mat to get rid of the mud he’s dragging and hangs his jacket after feeding their flock. It’s surprising how well all of them, even the former city bonvivant, have adapted to their new chores.

“Fine, get a third opinion then.” Lucy dares her, nodding over to the man. 

“What are we talking about?” He asks curiously, retrieving his own mug from the cupboard.

“Alicia’s love life.”

“No we are not!”

“I really don’t get what the problem is. You are clearly into each other, since like forever, it’s some fairy tale shit… Why do you have to go against it.”

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem for her.”

“And neither is she!”

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.” Strand quips with a lazy smile, getting a fistbump from Luciana.

That’s enough. Verging on something that will result in physical injury to somebody, the brunette throws the rest of her tea into the sink and grabs her coat. “ I can’t deal with you all today, I’m going for a walk.” She announces without looking back, then slams the door shut behind her.

“You two shouldn’t push her so hard.” Nick sighs not for the first time.

“Somebody has to, it’s getting painful to watch.”

He smiles to himself, shaking his head. “They’ll figure it out in time, you’ll see.”

\- - -

Why do they always have to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong? Why can’t they just leave her be? Everything was going fine!

The main dirt road goes from the front gate to the barn, where they keep their vehicles. The SWAT truck has been parked there semi permanently since they decided that seeing it around these parts could attract unwanted attention and Al can often be found in its vicinity tinkering with the engine or watching her tapes, but not today. She’s on one of her usual outings to look for supplies and probably enjoy some respite from their oppressive little commune.

On days like this one Alicia wouldn’t be that opposed to run away herself.

On the left a small trail cuts through their modest fields towards the cabin where Morgan and John live. For dinner they often come down to the main house, sometimes the conversation is lively, others more muted, they all have their fair share of scars to nurse after all.

Keeping away from it she aims towards the back door of the fence and up the hill, where she can at least hear herself think. 

Why can’t things just fall into place for her like Nick?

Why is she the one that has to live with the constant feeling of razor wire wrapped around her bowels? With fear, and doubt and self loathing? 

She doesn’t want to confront Althea, doesn’t want to know what’s really waiting for her on the other side of that conversation, because it could be good, but also very very bad. What does she have to lose, Lucy asks her often, and the answer is everything. Her precarious balance, her sanity, the little measure she was able to hold onto at least, herself.

And yet…

She clenches her fist so fiercely, that her knuckles turn white and her palm angry red.

And yet hiding is for cowards.

Falling back in the grass she lets herself close her eyes, confident that any walking corpse will make enough noise for her to hear and tries to relax. Easier said than done of course, as her mind refuses to let the issue go.

Why can’t her life be easy for once?

\- - -

At some point, she’s not sure how much time passed, the small radio on her hip crackles to life, announcing Al’s on her way back. She forces herself to do the same.

The journalist is driving in with the dirty range rover when Alicia reaches the boundaries of their home again, a big smile on her face, reinvigorated no doubt by the outside world and few breaths of sweet freedom it brings. Pushing that hurtful thought away, she waves a hand, signaling her to stop and roll down her window.

“Hey.” She greets her, cheeks flush in the chill morning air. 

“Can we talk?” 

“Yes! Actually, there’s something I want to show you. Meet me at the barn?” 

“Sure, but let me go first please. I really have to get this out.”

“Ok…” A worried crease forms between her eyes, as she pulls her grey beanie off to reveal adorably disheveled hair. “Is everything alright?”

Alicia nods and immediately turns to walk away, feeling a knot form in her throat, but there’s no walking this back.

Once the car is parked up front and the others start to unpack it’s bounty, the two of them gravitate towards the back of the wooden building, where they won’t be disturbed and Alicia takes a deep breath to steel herself. 

“What’s going on?”

“I… I know that these past months have probably been torture for you. As a journalist and stuff… you have to be out there to meet new people, gather stories, so believe me when I say I really appreciate how long you stuck around. I’m going out on a limb here assuming it’s at least a little bit because you were waiting on me.”

Al’s expression is unreadable to her, too agitated to think straight. She doesn’t want to pause or stop, fearing she’ll lose the nerve and falter. The only way now is through.

“I… I was messed up for a long time after the stadium, that much is clear, and I got even worse after seeing the tape. It’s all been a lot. I think I’m over the worst of it now, but… Well you know.” No use talking about that. “So, anyway, I think I have to tell you that I may never be ready to go out there again. I have to tell you that because it’s only fair after all you have done for me, the least I can do is be honest in return: I don’t feel like I can go right now, nor do I know if I’ll ever be ready. This little thing we built here is safe here, it feels safe at least, My brother is here, Luciana, Strand… the few people that are left are all here. I’m not afraid of the dead, but I’m so tired of fighting...”

She pauses, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.

“W-What I’m trying to tell you is that if you want to go, y-you should. I don’t want to be the reason you force yourself to go against your… your thing. I-I don’t want to keep you here.”

She has to stop, interrupted by a hiccup, but after taking a few deep breaths she forces herself to push on.

“...but… but… oh god, I’m really bad at this... W-What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to stay if it’s such a burden to you… but I really want you to stay.”

A flash of confusion passes on Althea’s face, opening her mouth to say something, Alicia however raises a hand to silence her for a little bit longer. 

“I want you to stay. I may be unfair, it may be selfish, but I need you to know that I want you to stay here with me and with the other people that I care about. You probably can’t and that’s fine, but I just need you to know or I will regret it for the rest of my life. I needed to at least say it out loud.” A pause. “I am really sorry I didn’t before.”

With that, silence falls between them. Alicia’s hands tremble at her sides, adrenaline pumping like she hasn’t experienced in a fight for a long long time. Is now the moment everything will come falling down?

“Can I show you something, Alicia?”

Not trusting her voice, she nods, wondering if this is just Al’s roundabout way to soften the blow.

“Staying here gave me some time to think too. All those tapes I made over the years, all those stories, gathering them was a rote action for me, something familiar to keep me sane as the world crumbled around me, you know?”

Again, she moves her head mechanically. Yes.

“So now I have two lockers full of them. But do they really matter?”

“Somebody in the future will want to know.”

The journalist smiles at her croaked answer, guiding her back towards her truck. “Yes, that’s what I kept saying, but it’s really a cop out if I’m being honest. Of course the stories matter, but if I just collect them and never do anything further, waiting for an imaginary future in which everything is fine again to bring them out…It’s bullshit.”

“What are you saying?”

She points to the external ladder leading to the top of the SWAT vehicle and climbs up, helping Alicia to do the same. There a bundle of wires hangs from the ceiling, hidden behind one of the roof’s crossbeams. Another one snakes out of the gunports, ready to be connected.

“It took time to find all the components I needed, luckily it’s pretty basic stuff I was able to harvest from here and there. Antennas, transceivers, the old user manual was helpful, but it still took some trial and error to get to this point.”

Looking at the contraption, the brunette is frankly unsure what she’s talking about.

“I can transmit only audio of course, which is a bit of a bummer, but still… We can set up repeater stations to bounce the signal around to be safe and reach a larger area and broadcast on set times every day or every few.” She opens the top hatch and there on one of the benches under them is a large shortwave set up. “Kind of what we did with First Hand Dispatch, but… I don’t know, post apocalyptic?”

“You want to transmit radio from here?”

Al nods with a large smile.

“And stay?”

Again, she nods yes. “I’m guessing I have material for at least a year of programming already, if I get some listeners I can organize drop offs or schedule meetings to bring in new stories, no need to scour the countryside like a tramp…”

“How long did all of this take you to put together?”

“I don’t know, a month or so?”

“What… Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like you said, I was waiting for you.”

Abandoning any pretense that there are words to describe what she’s feeling, Alicia lounges forward, thankfully caught by the other woman, and pulls her into a kiss. Their bodies plop down flush against each other on the SWAT truck’s roof, invisible from underneath and for a long moment she thinks that’s all she’ll ever need.

“I..." She begins, faltering, but the journalist seems to catch her intention.

"I do to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, but this is a side project for me and the mood is pretty heavy, so I’m not always up to it honestly, but there’s one last chapter to go and I'm not stopping now ;D  
> PS: Lucy may seem a smidge out of character, but remember that she didn’t lose Nick in this timeline, so...   
> Let me know what you think.


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